every day is like a battle (every night with us is like a dream)
by SmoakScreen
Summary: "What's your resolution?" Felicity taps her lower lip with her index finger a few times, considering it. "Take more naps," she says slowly, earning a chuckle from Oliver. (A late New Year's Eve story that completely ignores the canon of 3.09 because I don't want to deal with it right now.)


Felicity taps her nails against the metal desk and watches the monitors in front of her. For a holiday widely associated with booze and mischief the streets were downright quiet. A few liquor store break ins, a host of drunk and disorderly. All things the SCPD could certainly handle without intervention from the Arrow. Speaking of which, Felicity's eyes trail upwards from her monitors to the source of the rhythmic clanging that always accompanies Oliver's workouts on the salmon ladder. The noise would bug her if it weren't such a nice distraction to watch. Lately, she'd been working at being more subtle about her perusal of Oliver's.. technique. However, as she glanced away, Roy's smirk from across the room tells her she's failed.

She clears her throat, and taps idly at her keyboard, before speaking, "I guess even the criminal element takes a holiday every once in a while." Oliver drops from the bar as John hums in response and comes over to lean next to her on the desk. She spins in her chair and pins Roy with a look.

"How exactly did you manage the night off from the club?" The party at Verdant had started early. The club had been rocking before Felicity had even got off work and it had been a nonstop gentle thump of the base from overhead ever since. With the absence of the sound of metal hitting metal, the music from above became more prominent.

"Perks of knowing the owners," Roy shrugs and Felicity frowns.

"You're the manager. Aren't you kind of necessary?"

"Even managers get a holiday." Felicity raises an eyebrow and he sighs, giving in. "Thea thinks I have that flu going around. I just wasn't exactly in a party mood."

"At least you would have only had to deal with drunk partiers looking to have a good time. Apparently, board members have no need for holidays." At this, she makes an attempt at mimicking one of the board members, "'you want _how _much to expand your division? But what does the technical division do for us _really_?' Smug old bastard who probably doesn't even know how transfer a file without his EA. We'll see who he comes running to when his stash of – I'm sure – highly racist porn crashes his hard drive." Roy's eyebrows raise at this but Felicity spins at the laugh that comes from behind her. Oliver has pulled on a t-shirt and is pulling his gray hoodie over one arm as he smiles at her.

"Jacobs is a douche. And, you're right, he has a strange affinity for Asian women – one he likes to share." Felicity gags exaggeratedly as John shakes his head and straightens.

"And on that note, I think I'll head out." Felicity spins back around, following him as heads towards the door.

"But it's only 10 o'clock!" She pouts. If they're not going to fight crime, they could at least ring in the New Year together. John gives her a smile and bends down to kiss her cheek.

"Yes, and if I make it home in the next twenty minutes I might be able to kiss my fiancé goodnight and get a few hours of sleep before my infant daughter wakes us up screaming at an ungodly hour." Felicity frowns.

"You make parenthood sound terrible. I feel like I should call my mother and apologize. Maybe send her a nice muffin basket." Roy snorts and nods in agreement as John gets a faraway look and smiles softly.

"It's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Happy New Year, John," Felicity smiles and John exchanges the sentiment with each of them before heading for the side door.

"We should do a toast," she says suddenly, once the door closes behind him, swiveling in her chair to make eye contact with each of the two men left in the foundry. Oliver raises an eyebrow at her, circling around her desk to come stand next to Roy.

"With what?" Roy asks. "The water leaking out of that pipe?" Oliver frowns and looks in the direction that Roy had indicated, no doubt looking for the leak. Felicity rolls her eyes and gives Roy a look.

"There's an entire bar above our heads," she reminds them, "of course, since either of you making an appearance means you'll never come back, I'll go up there and get three glasses of champagne myself." She stands without waiting for their agreement, they're doing this, and slips on her discarded heels.

"Wish me luck," she tosses over her shoulder, heading for the stairs.

"Maybe we should take bets on how many times you get groped," Roy calls after her. Felicity ignores him.

Felicity crowds herself up against the emptiest part of the long bar, in the corner, and hopes the bartender will eventually notice her. She's easily one of the most dressed people in the club, and her dress doesn't even have a back, so she finds it surprisingly easy to melt into the wallpaper and wait her turn. She keeps a wary eye out for Thea, not really wanting to explain why she's carrying three glasses of champagne down into the locked basement. The bartender finally notices her only after the asshole behind her nearly spills his entire drink straight down her back. She manages to hop out of the way with a yelp but it had earns her a bit of attention.

She practically runs back downstairs once she has the drinks secured, fully aware she had way over tipped the subpar bartender in her rush to get out of there. The large metal door closing behind her makes the sudden silence of the foundry oddly unsettling. As she heads down the stairs carefully, she considers for the first time if Roy and Oliver ever bother to small talk or if it's always the heavy stuff. She figures Roy probably didn't have the luxury of making unintentionally extremely inappropriate comments as an ice breaker.

"Success," she calls as she reaches the last step, immediately stepping out of her heels at the bottom of the stairs. Oliver immediately moves to take two of the champagne flutes from her, handing one to Roy as he strolls up casually. Felicity holds her glass up, the two men joining with varying degrees of disinterest. She rolls her eyes.

"To a better year," she offers before clinking her glass gently against theirs and pulling it back to her lips, taking a long pull. When she lowers it, she bites her lip, waiting for Oliver and Roy to finish. Roy finishes the entire glass while Oliver seems to sip a small bit for a long time.

"So, any resolutions?" Roy gives her a tired look but she ignores him, waiting for a response.

"I don't know, blondie, what do you think?"

"Well, yours is clearly to be less of a sunshine happy person," she offers sarcastically, earning a smirk and a chuckle from Roy.

"I'll tell you what, I'll certainly work on it." He heads back to the desks, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over his hoodie, setting the flute down on the desk. "I'm gonna head out, too. Before the roads get too bad." He comes back over, bumping Felicity's shoulder lightly and holding his hand out to Oliver.

"Happy New Year." Felicity smiles and nods back at him as Oliver shakes his hand. She shakes her head fondly at their bonding moment and heads back to her chair, finishing her champagne as she goes. Roy's footsteps recede and Oliver moves back to his spot leaning against the metal table across from her. It's quiet again for a minute before Oliver breaks it.

"What about you?" He asks, as if they'd been having a conversation and Felicity frowns, confused. "What's your resolution?" Felicity taps her lower lip with her index finger a few times, considering it.

"Take more naps," she says slowly, earning a chuckle from Oliver. She can't help but grin back at him.

"Well, if you're feeling overworked, you could always cut back your hours here," he offers, pushing off of the table and moving towards her. She knows it's only half joking and that now he's probably honestly wondering if she's going to need time off. So, she scoffs and tosses her head, ponytail flying.

"Please, you'd be lost without me."

"Well, I can't deny that," he agrees, nodding. The sincerity in his voice throws her off. It's nothing he hasn't said before but it makes her stomach flip and she has to glance away. She clears her throat, looking back at him.

"And yours?" He raises an eyebrow, like he'd almost forgotten what they were talking about, but then frowns and seems to really think about it.

"I'm not sure," he admits, shaking his head. "What do you think?"

She's not sure what makes her say it, she certainly couldn't blame the miniscule amount of alcohol for it. Maybe the prospect of a new year, being hours away from this monumental change that never really feels monumental in hindsight.

"I think you should stop denying yourself the things you want," is what she tells him, holding eye contact and going all in. He'll either take the hint and go with it or he'll pretend not to understand. Either way, she isn't at fault for the chances he doesn't take. He's quiet for a minute.

"Felicity," he says gently and it's all she needs to hear.

"For example," she continues on, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the hem of her dress, "I know I've been denying myself the good top shelf red wine because I'm used to not being able to afford it." She doesn't even realize she's getting ready to run until her phone is her hand and her coat is in the crook of her elbow. She's on her feet searching under her desk for the shoes she left by the stairs and Oliver is staring at her like she's physically hurting him. It's her name coming out of his mouth again, gentle and desperate, that makes her stop and make eye contact again. He looks like he has more to say than just her name but he doesn't. She waits until she realizes how much time she's spent waiting on Oliver Queen since he walked into her office two years ago.

She realizes she'll never fully stop waiting but she can take control of this moment.

"Happy New Year, Oliver," she murmurs, shaking her head and turning towards the bright spot on the dark floor that is her shoes through the blur of fresh tears in her eyes. She falters at the brush of Oliver's fingertips against the inside of her wrist. Any strength she'd had, the sudden wave of confidence that had led them down this road, completely drains out of her and her shoulders sag. He isn't holding her, he isn't pulling her back, asking her to stay. His fingertips burn against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

He's giving her the option to stay.

"Oliver," she breathes, turning back to him, not sure where the rest of that sentence will go. It doesn't matter much, though, because as soon as she turns back Oliver's hand closes around her wrist and he's stepping into her space.

Their second kiss goes much like their first. Oliver initiates, gentle while still clinging to her like she can save him if he'd let her, Felicity too afraid to reciprocate fully, not sure how to help him realize he can save himself without her. She doesn't know if she can handle walking away from this again. Oliver pulls away, stooped slightly to accommodate her height, resting his forehead against hers. She doesn't open her eyes, tired of crying because of Oliver Queen.

"I'm afraid it might be too late to get what I want," he admits quietly and it takes a moment for the sentiment to set in, for her eyes to fly open to find his still closed. She doesn't think about it, just moves forward the small amount to press her lips to his, more fully this time.

"You're right on time," she breathes when they separate again. The smile that lights up his face is the most beautiful she's ever seen him.

"I love you," he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup her face. Felicity decides words are cheap and presses forward again.


End file.
